


A Perfect Moment

by ButterflyPrincess



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, Getting Together, I haven't written non-angsty fluff in ages omg what is this show doing to me, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 17:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19381705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyPrincess/pseuds/ButterflyPrincess
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley are drinking together in the bookstore. Usually, drinking alcohol was fun, but that day, something was different.





	A Perfect Moment

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't entered a new fandom in Y E A R S so hi, I love Good Omens now. I am obsessed. I've already watched it three times in a week and love these two so much. Like. SO MUCH. I can't. 
> 
> Anyways, I wrote this little thing to get some feelings off my chest before diving into more detailed fic ideas I have. 
> 
> Have fun, my angels, demons and everyone in between <3

An angel and a demon were sitting in the cozy back room of a bookstore, the demon sprawling his long, thin limbs out over the sofa, the angel sitting upright and composed in the armchair next to him, as the fireplace was crackling idly in the background. They were drinking together, as they so often had before, but that night, something was different.  

Usually, drinking alcohol was fun. Even when they did it in the knowledge that Armageddon was coming, they had a good time. But not now. Now the air was heavy, and the alcohol made it feel even heavier. Nonetheless, they were downing glass after glass of expensive red wine in the hopes that they would finally stop feeling so heavy.

“Do you know why I call you ‘angel’?” Crowley asked, his voice slightly slurred.

Aziraphale looked at him, confused. “Because I _am_ an angel?”

Crowley rolled his eyes, his sunglasses having left his face hours ago. “I mean, yes, but I don’t exactly call Michael ‘angel’ when I meet her, do I?”

“You’ve met her?”

“She’s galivanting around hell more than you’d expect. Establishing 'backchannels', as she calls it. I personally think she’s got some sort of Arrangement herself.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. Michael had been to Hell multiple times? Impossible, not even he had been there until their recent body swapping shenanigans, and he had vested interest. Sort of. Not really. His ‘interest’ was Crowley, after all, and that particular demon didn’t really have much interest in Hell himself. “Then why?”

“Because you are… _more_ of an angel than the others, you know that?” Crowley kept his gaze fixed on his wine glass.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, you’ve met them, you know I’m terrible at my job.” Gabriel was a much more shining example of what a good angel was. Unflinching devotion to the Great Plan. Following and giving orders quickly, efficiently, succinctly. Ready to War to settle things once and for all.

“Exactly. Your jobs sucks. You guys do more bullshit than Hell can even think of. You are… You are what an angel _should_ be. You are truly righteous, almost painfully so. It kind of makes you more of a bastard, and that’s what I like about you. You hated that damn Flood, you hated what they did to the Messiah. And you… You understand that I’m different, too.” Crowley’s voice was quick and hushed and he still didn’t look up.

Aziraphale inhaled deeper. “I really thought we would die, you know. Or at least that we wouldn’t stop Armageddon and we’d… Have to fight. Can you imagine that? Us? in a war?” Aziraphale tried to force a small laugh.

Crowley couldn’t laugh about it. He had memories of the Rebellion, and that he had not met Aziraphale during that whole disaster was pure chance. “I would rather bathe in Holy Water.” He paused. “You know, I really thought I had lost you that day. On so many levels.”

Aziraphale nodded and took a sip of wine. “I thought that, too, you know. I thought that I had told you off for good and I couldn’t apologize before I beamed up to Heaven.”

“You don’t have to apologize for anything, angel.”

“Of course, I bloody do. I never… I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… You were always so much kinder than me. I never gave anything back.”

Crowley decided to let the "kind" slide this time. “We’re both bad at our jobs then, aren’t we?” Crowley could laugh now, quietly, but still. He took a deep breath. “You know that humans use ‘angel’ as a pet name, right? When they like each other.”

Aziraphale nodded hesitantly. “They think more highly of angels than us, I suppose.”

“I think more highly of you than I think of angels in general.”

Aziraphale swallowed. “Well, I think of you more highly than I think of demons in general.” He smiled, brightly and honestly, but his gaze flickered towards the ground, he couldn’t look Crowley in the eyes right now. He felt naked while fully clothed, vulnerable.

“Do you still think we’re not friends?” Crowley put down his glass and sat up, gathered his limps a bit more. It still amused him, having so many of them. He had even tried to shapeshift into a spider once to try how that was, but frankly, eight legs were a bit tedious to manage.

“Crowley, I- I didn’t mean that, I just… I… I don’t know. If we’re not friends, then who is? I mean we’ve been around each other for 6000 years and we only sporadically hate each other.” Aziraphale wasn’t happy with his own answer, even though his reasoning was mostly sound.

“Come here,” Crowley said and gestured towards the space next to him on the sofa.

“Why...?“ – “Just come here, please, angel.” Crowley’s voice was shaky and Aziraphale was not sure he understood what was going on.

So, he stood up, walked two steps and sat down besides Crowley. The air was thick and he didn’t feel able to breathe. (He didn’t technically need to, but his quite authentically human body had grown awfully used to it).

Crowley move painfully slowly, resting his arm on the back of the sofa, and letting his fingers ever so lightly touch Aziraphale’s hair. His gaze lingered on Aziraphale, wandered over every aspect of his face, every perfect little wrinkle, until he got helplessly stuck in his ice-blue eyes. “You’re beautiful, angel,” he whispered.

Time seemed to race and stand still at the same time as Aziraphale scooted slightly closer, turning towards who he believed to be the only good demon to have ever walked the Earth. For the first time in 6000 years he allowed his eyes to truly look at Crowley, for longer than just a second, without shame, without restraint and hopelessness and fear.

And what he saw was a beauty so breath-taking, he was suddenly wondering why he had ever denied it to himself. It wasn’t just his face with the high cheekbones and fascinating eyes, or his tall, slim frame that moved in the most entertaining ways even when doing something as benign as just walking towards the car. It was the sheer complexity of his aura radiating from him. How it wasn’t all white as an angel’s, or all black as the typical demon’s. No, it was almost humanly colourful, fluctuating. Perfect in its own, imperfect way.

“You are quite beautiful yourself,” Aziraphale said, finally, after a long pause of just sitting and looking and enjoying.

“I don’t think we are friends,” Crowley said, his fingers still playing in Aziraphale’s white locks, “And I didn’t want to stop Armageddon because Earth was such a good time. I mean it was, it _is_ , but I mean, it’s not like Hell doesn’t throw good parties, considering Heaven doesn’t throw any at all. But…” He shook his head, a smile creeping onto his face, then a laugh, one that he didn’t quite want there but still welcomed. “I wanted more time with you.”

Aziraphale stared back at him, his insides growing hotter and hotter, a flush making its way onto his cheeks. “I… I also wanted more time… With you.” He took a deep breath, tried to feel the words on his tongue, tried to find and accept the ones he had wanted to use before but never quite did find the courage to say. “I wanted all the time in the world with you, love.”

And that was when Crowley could not keep his composure a minute longer. He leaned forward, quickly yet careful to not overwhelm the angel and slightly tightened the grip of his hand in Aziraphale’s hair. Their foreheads touched and he paused. “Say no,” he said, not a command as much as a way out in case he was going too fast again.

Aziraphale’s eyes flickered between Crowley’s eyes and lips. “I would never,” he whispered, and closed the gap once and for all. Their lips touched, with a longing built up for millennia, finally released in the back room of a small bookstore in London. It was perfect in its imperfection, every missed beat contributed to a larger, more unique rhythm.

Everything was warmth in that moment, the light that neither of them saw, the warmth from the fireplace, and their lips moving against each other. It was hungry yet tentative, it was new yet familiar, it was a feeling so incredibly foreign to them yet it had the unmistakeable signature of home. It was an angel and a demon, historically opposed, opposites in looks and character and purpose, yet perfectly coming together in a harmony that nobody between Heaven and Hell had ever heard played quite to beautifully.

When they pulled apart, flushed and excited, Aziraphale let out a little chuckle before smiling widely, “I suppose we are not friends, indeed.” Crowley nodded. “I suppose not.”

“What changes now?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shrugged. “Well, I think the little witch already thinks we’re married, so there’s that. In fact, I think most people do, I haven’t been exactly subtle calling you ‘angel’ all the time. And for us… Well, we’ll be around each other a lot, as we already are. I’ll be bothering you day in, day out, as I already do. Except that I get to do this…” – he took Aziraphale’s hand and intertwined their fingers – “And this…” – he gave him a kiss, brief yet deep – “And potentially… Whatever you are in the mood for.”

Aziraphale nodded. “I’d like that very much.”

“Would you like to…?” Crowley asked, hesitantly, and internally slapped himself the moment he spotted the slightest onset of panic in Aziraphale’s face. “We don’t have to.”

The angel nodded. “I… I think I’d like to keep it at this for now,” he said and leaned back in for a kiss, it was chaste but loving, and so soft that Crowley thought he might actually melt right then and there.

And so they remained, sitting on an old-fashioned sofa in an old-fashioned bookstore, kissing, the world outside of no importance at this perfect little moment that was theirs and only theirs alone. And if another Armageddon was coming, they would stop it again and again, over and over, just to share more of these perfect, little moments.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it, here's my newly rebranded (not really, I just changed my header and avatar, my old shenanigans are still there) Tumblr if you want to chat/hang out/fangirl with me: https://butterflyprincessao3.tumblr.com
> 
> Much love <3


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